


Morning Realities

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [27]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Feels, Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompts, Mystrade Prompt Challenge, Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts, mystrade, sherrinford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 18:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17606753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: Mycroft awakens the morning after Sherrinford to a surprising reality.





	Morning Realities

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts | Morning

Mycroft slowly opened his eyes to a pre-dawn whose early light had yet to break over the jagged edges of the cityscape of his London townhouse.

Waking up before dawn?

Not a surprise. It was just one of the many countless morning when he could not make it to the mansion.

Waking up fully dressed?

Regrettably, not a surprise. It was just one of the many countless he had fallen asleep too exhausted to strip first.  At least he had taken off his shoes this time.

Waking in his own bed, his head on Gregory’s warm chest, with Gregory drawing lazy swirls along his arm?

Again, not a surprise. It was a just one of the many pleasant waking dreams he’s had before and he relished it. He tilted his head up and kissed his dream Gregory’s neck.

“Ugh… what time…? It’s not mornin’ yet izzit…?” A sleep roughened voice greeted him.

Now THAT was a surprise.

Mycroft bolted up, reached over and turned on the lamp. He stared at the silver haired apparition in his bed. 

_No, not in it. On it,_

_Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade is on my bed._

Gregory, also sans shoes - _thank goodness_ \- was dressed in his shirt and trousers – _on my bed_. His shirt sleeves, unbuttoned at the cuffs, partially pushed to his elbows, his silver hair a riot of spikes. Only this Gregory stifled his yawn, but not his amusement at Mycroft’s stunned expression.  Dream Gregory never yawned and was never this fully dressed, which meant…

_He’s real!_

Mycroft’s brain did something exceedingly rare. It slammed to a full stop. Then repeated itself.

_Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade is on my bed._

“You... You’re… You’re not in my dreams?”

Gregory leant on an elbow, and ran a hand through his hair partially taming the spikes. “You’ve dreamt of me, Mycroft?  In your bed?”

Mycroft nodded, still not quite believing his eyes to think maybe he might not have wanted to reveal that as Gregory graciously had the fortitude to not take him to task for that slip. Still, Gregory all but beamed in pleasure.

_Gregory Lestrade? In my bedroom? On my bed?_

_How?_

And then the answers came to him.

“Oh.”

Sherrinford.

How so much was said with just one word.

The past hours replayed in his head and Mycroft moaned as his head fell into his hands as he remembered.

The touch of Greg’s hand as it stroked his face when the toll of all that had happened – not just the day before, but the decades of it that shattered the glacier walls of the Iceman and he broke down. He did not remember as Gregory took his keys and opened the door to the townhouse. He did not remember the walk upstairs to his bedroom. He did remember how his voice cracked when he felt Gregory was about to leave him to his ghosts.

_“Stay Gregory, can you? I… I cannot bear to be alone right now… Please?”_

He had remembered the feel the policeman’s arms when Gregory pulled him close and held him, just held him.

“Reality is a cruel mistress in the harsh light of morning.” Gregory mused.

“And a kind one at others.” Mycroft sighed, “I feel like I should say sorry for having asked you to stay, but I find I cannot say the words for they would be a lie.”

“Then don’t say it. I certainly am not sorry you asked.”

Mycroft sat there for a moment in thought as he looked through a slight gap in the curtains at the still dark skies.

“So many years. First with Uncle Rudi, than on my own. So many years, hiding it from my parents and my brother. Waiting in fear for the inevitable day when Sherlock would finally remember in earnest, because I would not be able to hide such from him and I knew there would be hell to pay for it. Oh, was _that_ proven true in spades.” Mycroft rubbed at his face roughly.

“And how do you feel now?” Gregory asked gently.

“A little shell shocked, I guess? Glad at least that burden is lifted. But tired Gregory, so damned tired.”

Greg looked at the bedside clock “It’s almost 5a.m.”

“So, it is.” Mycroft looked at his pocket watch for confirmation. “I don’t think I am ready yet.”

Neither said anything for a long moment.

“But I suppose you have to go…?” Mycroft raised a brow as he flicked his eyes to Gregory.

“I do have to meet with the CID about all of this this at some point, but I’m guessing you would prefer that I stay a bit longer, as we are now.”

Mycroft knew it was not a question, but nodded in grateful response anyway.

“Are you sure?”

Mycroft nodded again and then realized Gregory wanted to hear him say it. “Yes. Please. Stay if you can, Gregory.”

“Then you should know, I have dreamed of you as well. And when you’re in a better state of mind we can talk about it, but for right now, Mycroft, it’s too early in the morning to face reality, turn out the light, come here,..." Gregory laid back down and opened his arms in invitation  "...And let’s dream of each other a little more.”

So he did.


End file.
